


Eden Log

by naboru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Dark, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unfortunate events led to a hasty decision which is now revealed to all shuttleformers.</p><p>implied death of unnamed OCs / Blast Off, OCs / PG-13</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Eden Log #1  
>  **Warnings:** implied death of unnamed OCs  
>  **Continuity:** G1 [part of ultharkitty’s [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1)], pre-war  
>  **Characters:** Blast Off, OCs  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, nothing is mine.  
>  **Summary:** Unfortunate events led to a hasty decision which is now revealed to all shuttleformers.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty

_It should have been a historical event. It should have been a new beginning on another world._

_But it had been a disaster._

_They didn’t find any survivors, only dead metal floating in space._

_A single intact memory bank could be retrieved. It didn’t contain images, only sound; it was only partially complete._

_An argument about unexpected turbulence, defiance, and a fight about different correct decisions._

_It ended with the death of everyone, and resulted in a hasty conclusion - a conviction of an entire Cybertronian subgroup._

_…because someone needed to be blamed._

***

“Good morning,” the mech in front of Blast Off said, handing him a datapad.

Blast Off nodded and took the pad. He entered the big hall wordlessly; he didn’t feel like talking, and he didn't feel like it was a good morning either.

It was just a joor ago, maybe a joor and a half, when he had arrived at the Altihex Deep Space Research Facility. It had felt good to be back, and he had wanted to recharge in his room - recharge and relax until his next mission began. 

Unfortunately, his plan was interrupted by a meeting notification from his room's computer. A message which, apparently, every shuttleformer had received.

The hall was crowded. Not only with shuttleformers who worked at this facility, but also builds from Praxus and Iacon. Blast Off could recognise them because of their different frames which had been constructed for different purposes. Many of them were only supposed to fly short distances - short in space-going terms.

He sighed tiredly, and was just about to look at the datapad when a familiar voice shouted his name.

“Hey, Blast Off!”

The shuttle winced, and now his sigh sounded annoyed. He glanced up, and saw a group of shuttleformers standing nearby. There were three of his own build and series, and three others: space cruisers, probably from Iacon and built for passenger transportation to Cybertron’s moons and space stations. This series was pretty young, not even a vorn old. A condescending expression rushed over his faceplates.

“Blast Off, we’re over here!” the voice shouted anew. Blast Off huffed; Lunar Pulse, of course, who always tried to make him socialise. 

He yielded to the situation and crossed the distance. Stepping beside his green and beige batch mate, he joined the group he didn’t want to be part off right now, and didn’t greet anyone.

“This is Blast Off. He just came back from a mission,” Lunar Pulse explained to the space cruisers - one of them was a femme. Blast Off only realised it when the slightly different energy field frequency brushed his own field.

“Oh,” she said, “did you hear what happened to the Eden mission when you were in outer space?”

Blast Off frowned and shot her a look. “No, I haven’t, because I do not have communication equipment.” His voice was sharp and sarcasm rang deep in it.

The femme winced and shifted on her feet. He just shook his head in annoyance, and mused if it might have been less irritating if he had tried to ignore Lunar Pulse and the group.

The said green shuttle laughed quietly, and the group continued their former conversation in which Blast Off did not participate. He turned his attention to the datapad, because even if he knew what had happened to the mission and the shuttleformer - who had been his superior once - he didn’t truly know what this meeting was about. But it had to be important if shuttles from all the central locations were there.

To Blast Off’s surprise, the datapad was deactivated. He frowned. The content had to be unlocked first; he didn’t have a good feeling about that.

“What do you think about it?” his batch mate asked, and it took Blast Off a moment to realise that he was being addressed and what was meant. 

He shrugged, not looking up. “I think it means bad news.”

There wasn’t a reply, because at that moment the light dimmed and one of the officials stepped on the stage. A big screen at his back showed the topic of the meeting: _Information Event About Measures Taken and Consequences Of The_ Eden _Mission_.

Blast Off frowned. This definitely meant bad news.

The mech on the stage cleared his vocaliser and a staticky cough was the first sound to echo through the hall before he began to speak.

“Welcome. Thank you all for coming…” And so it began. With elocution and euphemism, the mech in front of them explained the situation. He showed disturbing pictures of the wrecks and metal pieces floating in space, the remains from _Eden_ , and a murmur sounded through the room.

The shuttleformers next to Blast Off shifted; one of them rubbed his upper arm and shuddered, another one looked awkwardly at his feet.

Blast Off just stood there. Looking at the pictures, thinking about what might have happened, it still wasn’t as bad as a few things he had seen in space. At least it looked as though all the mechs had died quickly.

The official mentioned a retrieved memory bank and a sound file, but they didn’t play it. Apparently it was too “upsetting”. Blast Of guessed that it wouldn’t emphasise the meeting’s purpose, and so they had decided to keep it hidden.

Then, they unlocked the content of the datapads, and dropped the bombshell.

“Because of this unfortunate event, we - the Deep Space Research Facility and the subsidises Institutions for Space Related Transports of People and Cargo - decided to reduce the risk for mechs and femmes which are not build for space conditions by establishing a new program. This program will be installed to all shuttleformers working for said institutions and will guarantee trouble-free cooperation between the missions’ commander and the shuttleformer.”

Blast Off tensed. He didn’t have anything against getting updates, or physical upgrades, even if he didn’t like the poking and prodding of scientists and engineers, but translating the euphemisms, the program meant nothing else but forced obedience.

It seemed it wasn’t just himself coming to this conclusion when another, louder murmur went through the hall.

Mechs and femmes gestured or stood frozen, looking surprised and irritated, and even Blast Off clenched his fist.

He glanced around, and for the first time, he noticed the security guards at the hall's entrance and at the stairs to the stage. There were more guards than usual, and they showed their weapons openly.

Blast Off’s engine revved to a growl, and he didn’t pay attention to the looks he gained from the group standing next to him.

Annoyed, and discontented, he finally skimmed through the datapad, where the mechanisms of the program were explained, while the official mech still tried to de-emphasise the facts.

After the first few pages, Blast Off’s already-negative expectations were surpassed. The new update would enable the possibility of totally deactivating a shuttle’s consciousness, forcing them into a state of coma and triggering a complete loss of control over their body.

Blast Off’s tanks lurched.

“Wow,” the unimpressed voice of Lunar Pulse rang to him, and he glanced up. The other met his optics with his own. “They’re really serious about this…”

“They can’t do this to us!” It was a femme, a different one than before, another space cruiser, and if Blast Off hadn’t been so shocked, he would have wondered if every space cruiser of this series were femmes. As it was, he didn’t care.

There were more complains from other mechs in the group, and a few other farther away shouted at the mech at the stage. Security didn’t intervene just yet.

Blast Off kept quiet. He didn’t like it at all, but he also didn’t see a point in complaining or whining or arguing. They hadn't left him many options.

“What do they think they’re doing?” another shuttle grumbled.

“Yeah, they’re insane! Why are they doing this anyway? Because of one space incident? As if this had been the first one!” another femme said, and Blast Off huffed quietly.

“Hey, Blast Off?” Lunar Pulse looked at him again, and he tried to ignore it. “You wanna say something, right?”

One more growl of his engine. He hated it when the other did that. Sure, he could say lots of things about their mutual disagreement with the program and how degrading it was, but since there was no use in complaining, the words weren’t worth it.

“Ah, c’mon.” More verbal poking from Lunar Pulse, and the others looked at him expectantly.

Blast Off gave in and huffed annoyed. “Why they do this now when other accidents happened before _Eden_? Because this catastrophe was in the media, because ordinary people don’t have any notion about the conditions and dangers of space, and because it’s always easier to blame a minority - no matter its status - and make them pay for other's mistakes. It’s the easiest way to pacify the public.”

After this, the group fell silent.

Blast Off gave them a condescending look, and muttered. “Use your processors before you ask such stupid, unnecessary questions.”

He didn’t notice Lunar Pulse grinning for the slightest of moments as his attention was drawn back to the stage where another mech was asking for silence.

Slowly, the murmur ebbed, and the mech who was speaking before could be heard. He said another few unhelpful things, before he gave them the opportunity to ask questions about the measures.

Lunar Pulse was the first who raised his arm. “Hey, here. I have one. What happens if I refuse to get the update?”

Again, voices rose, muttering agreement, and the official answered in a matter-of-fact way.

“The institutions have signed an agreement that we will only employ shuttles who have installed this program. Further, we decided that every new series will be built with this code from the beginning.”

Lunar Pulse frowned. “So, that means, if I don’t get this update, I’m fired?”

“Well, if you don’t want to get this program installed - we, the cooperating institutes - can’t employ you any longer, so… yes.”

Blast Off grimaced, and without his conscious intent, he said aloud, “You’re blackmailing us.”

The room fell silent once more, and optics looked at Blast Off as he tensed.

There was no reply, and the official just turned to another mech with a new question, pretending not to have heard Blast Off’s words.

All the answers were spoken with nice, harmless words, but there was no point in the euphemisms. It was a program which limited a mech’s freedom. A program which could trap a mech’s mind in his own body, turning him into an insentient drone.

The rest of the time, those responsible tried to justify their decision.

Blast Off sighed and stopped listening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunate events lead to a hasty decision which forces Blast Off to get an update.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** implied death of unnamed OCs, gen, hints to an ethical dilemma , questionable medical performance  
>  **Continuity:** G1 [part of ’s [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1)], pre-war  
>  **Characters:** Blast Off, Perceptor, OCs  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, nothing is mine.  
>  **Summary:** Unfortunate events lead to a hasty decision which forces Blast Off to get an update.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty

Blast Off waited in front of medbay.

The facility spread over three floors, and was underground, protected by thick layers of concrete, lead and other substances to prevent any scanning signal coming through. While Altihex had alliances, it also had lots of secrets. With factories specialised in building highly delicate and expensive equipment for shuttleformers or space researches, the city's officials were very careful what they revealed to outsiders.

Leaning against the wall, Blast Off read from a datapad. Not about the program he’d get installed – he couldn’t stand reading about it any more. Instead, he read about a mission that would come up as soon as he was done with this procedure. 

“You’re Blast Off, I presume? I’m Perceptor, please excuse my delay.” A voice with an educated accent made Blast Off look up from the datapad then down again at a mech. His alt-mode was hard to tell from the first look. “I got lost. I haven’t been here for-“

“Let’s get this over with,” Blast Off interrupted the other.

The mech winced, but nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He opened the door to medbay with a code, and entered the room. There was only one other medic, Blast Off knew him, but he could never remember his name.

The two mechs greeted each other with a few words while Blast Off sat down on one of the berths.

There was no way to get comfortable. The metal Blast Off lay on was cold, and the reason he was there in the first place floated over him like a dark cloud ready to swallow his freedom.

Eventually, after a klik that felt much longer, the mech with the odd alt-mode stepped to the shuttle.

“I’ll have to put you into stasis for this. Before that, I’ll explain the program's workings to you,” the scientist said, appearing stiff.

Blast Off frowned. “No need for that. I read enough about it. Just do it. I have a trip I need to prepare for.”

“Oh, yes. Sure,” the mech stammered, and sat down next to Blast Off. The device in his hand was an external hard drive. Probably with the code on it. The shuttle suppressed revving his engine in anger.

“I need to follow a few procedural instructions, however.” The mech reset his vocaliser. “Your Build Code is A-HEX_0028.b40056, designation: Blast Off?”

“Yes.”

“Employed by the Altihex Deep Space Institute, specialised for long travels, xenological research, exploration and linguistics?”

“Yes.”

“You agree with the terms of service and restrictions of Eden Log and are aware of its terms of use and guidelines?”

“Yes. Are we done yet?” Blast Off tensed, and now his engine did rev. It was bad enough he had to go through this in the first place, to prolong the whole process was unnecessary.

The scientist winced, the shuttle saw it from his peripheral vision, but he didn’t care.

“Ah, yes. After the installation, I’ll need you sign a few documents. The test phase of the functionality of the program will be in four joors from now in hangar 4.8D, please be there in time.”

“Of course, it will be a pleasure,” Blast Off spat sarcastically.

“I… I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it’s a great honour for me to work with a HEXian shuttleformer. I-“

“So.” Once more, Blast Off interrupted; his mech talked too much “You’re saying it’s an honour for you to limit an individual’s possibility for free will and freedom of choice? Interesting. Maybe it’s better if you just keep your vocaliser offline from now on, and get on with your work.”

The shuttle had no guilt about speaking like this. The mech was from a lower caste, and what he was going to do wasn’t very noble either. Blast Off didn’t care about the wincing of the smaller mech, or his uncertain expression.

“I’ll initiate stasis now,” was all the intimidated mech said, then Blast Off blacked out.

\---

Blast Off awoke with a pressure in his head.

It was nothing new. Updates of programs or even larger batches of star sheet data did that to the processor, but this time, it was different. There was also an itch. Not somewhere on his plating where Blast Off could actually scratch it. It was in his head, causing a restlessness that made his ailerons twitch.

It had taken about a joor to install the code, and Blast Off would have three joors to get used to it. He knew it wouldn’t be enough, and he certainly didn’t look forward to it being activated.

“Is that it?” Blast Off asked, looking at the scientist with a blank expression.

“Yes. It went all according to protocol, and there weren’t any complications. Your system should fully adapt to it within the next few cycles.”

Blast Off’s reply was only a nod. He had nothing to say to this, and he didn’t want the mech to hear his staticky voice, which he often had after an update.

Sitting up, he let his equilibrium chip reboot once before he got off the berth.

“I need you to sign these,” the scientist spoke hastily, as if he’d fear Blast Off would leave without doing so.

Stupid mech, his short term memory was functioning.

Skimming over the content, it was just standard procedure of how he felt and agreeing to more things he actually didn’t truly agree to.

The scientist said something, but Blast Off didn’t listen when he went out. He had three joors to pass; it was enough time to refuel.

\---

The next time Blast Off saw the scientist, he sat in shuttle-mode in the hangar. His cockpit door was open, and the mech typed things into his control console.

The shuttle didn’t like it.

Neither did he like anyone being inside his cockpit, nor someone tinkering with his controls and letting the commands through. Usually, he’d overwrite whatever someone typed in. _He_ was the shuttle after all, he knew what to do, and he knew how to fly.

The scientist ran some scans, a device attached to the data port in his cockpit, and talked over comm-line to one of his colleagues outside.

It took a while until the scientist addressed Blast Off. Maybe he’d learnt eventually that the shuttle wasn’t fond of small talk and so had kept it to a minimum.

“I’ll activate the code now. Please don’t fight it. It’ll be over soon.”

Blast Off would have nodded if he’d been in root-mode, but like this, he didn’t even have time for an acknowledging grunt.

He sensed code spreading, the itch in his processor increasing and almost becoming real. Like thousands of small electric shocks on his plating on the outside and inside. It made him shuffle, ailerons trembled, and firewalls worked. The pressure on his thoughts was amplified, but then dampened. The feeling of wrongness spread, but then ebbed away.

Firewalls were coaxed into giving in; a buzzing inside his processor was like a voice that tried to convince him. The itching sensation became less annoying. It wasn’t really unpleasant any more. It was just a sensation, like an energy field wrapping around him, somehow soothing. There was a feeling of this being okay, that there was nothing wrong with giving in, and Blast Off knew he would.

But he didn’t. He hated himself for this idea. His engine revved to a growl, and the dizziness that had covered his thoughts vanished. It had all been a matter of astroseconds, only that his penultimate thought and his last one had been almost two joors apart.

Blast Off’s chronometer told him so.

He panicked.

Inside his cockpit was another mech talking with the scientist and staring at readings of the device. The itch came back, but was less present, it was just before the program was activated, with the same straining sensation in his processor.

Time had passed, and Blast Off hadn’t realised it. It hadn’t been stasis, there was no protocol for what had happened, no camera files that were recorded while his consciousness was gone.

It was a hole in his existence.

“Get out,” Blast Off spat over his on-board speakers and caused the mechs to flinch. They looked up at one of his cameras, optics widened.

“ _Get out_!” he said anew, more urgently, and his engine rumbled. A threatening noise that was loud enough to echo from his thrusters through his cargo hold and made his frame vibrate.

“Blast Off, how are you feeling?” They didn’t move, only stared.

“ _Leave_ ”, Blast Off didn’t answer. How was he feeling? They’d robbed time from him, and who knew what they’d done during that? “Leave now, or I swear by Vector Sigma, I’m going to crush you inside me!”

After that, they finally hurried out.

Blast Off didn’t wait until the staircase to his cockpit was withdrawn, and transformed as soon as they were gone.

The first steps in root-mode seemed weird. As though his legs had rusted, and another form of dizziness raised. One that made him feel sick.

Blast Off rubbed his forehead, venting air deeply.

“Are you okay?” the mech asked again. It wasn’t the scientist who’d installed the code, it was the other which Blast Off hadn’t seen before.

“What do you think?” he growled, but didn’t give them time to react. “Are we done here?”

“Ah, yes.” The scientist with the weird alt-mode nodded, and held out another datapad. “These are your test results. This copy is for you in case-“

Blast Off snatched the datapad from the other hand, and revved his engine again. He didn’t wait to see if it caused a reaction; he just turned on his heel and left.

Frustration built up while he walked out of the hangar and to his quarters. Frustration he had no idea how to deal with. At least the whole process was transparent enough that they let him have the data.

It was just good that Blast Off almost never flew within a team, or had passengers. Hopefully, this program would never be activated again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reluctantly, someone says goodbye to Blast Off.

Blast Off was tired and restless. He lay on his berth, one arm over his offline optics.

He didn’t feel well.

Blast Off never felt well after getting a program update, but this time it had been a very unpleasant procedure. It might be still the after effects.

It also might be the finality.

The new code had been installed, and there was no going back. He’d given up a part of his freedom to keep his freedom to go to space, but it still didn’t feel quite right. 

He sighed, and was trying again to recharge when someone pinged his door.

Blast Off’s engine growled quietly; he decided to ignore it.

Not even a klik passed, before he was pinged again, and he already guessed who it was. Reluctantly, he onlined his optics and sat up. Standing with a sigh, Blast Off rolled his shoulder and unlocked the door.

As expected, Lunar Pulse stood there, looking almost abashed. He had a box with some goods under his arm, and Blast Off’s first thought was that he seriously wasn’t in the mood for high grade.

Blast Off didn’t greet the other shuttle, and just stared at him.

To his surprise, Lunar Pulse didn’t say anything about getting drunk together.

“Uhm…” he began uncertainly. “Yo, I just wanna say goodbye.”

If Blast Off had paid attention, he would have noticed the shy grin. As it was, he just was glad that he didn’t have to fob the other off.

“So?” was Blast Off only reaction, because he couldn’t quite think of any reason for the other to make such a theatrical scene.

“Yeah, I kinda thought I should do that, you know. We were built together. Or, you know, we woke up at the same time and worked together for a time that feels like an eternity.” A laugh, but even Blast Off could hear that it was faked.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I didn't get that update.”

That took Blast Off by surprise. “You didn't?”

It wasn’t so much because apparently the other shuttle had to leave, but that someone had decided against the program, and it spawned the question anew if Blast Off had made the right decision.

Lunar Pulse nodded. “Yep.” A sigh. “I’m not like you. I often fly passengers and people and… You know I always had some sort of _authority problem_.” There was another faked laugh; and no, Blast Off hadn’t known, but he hadn’t cared either.

There was something else, however, that interested him.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I, uhm…” It seemed as though Lunar Pulse hadn’t expected the question. He changed his hold on his box, and shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe I start running logistics. I can’t work for the government or research facilities, but I can work independently.”

Blast Off tilted his head. This didn’t sound really well thought out, but he chose not to mention it.

“Logistics?” he asked instead, and wasn’t quite sure if someone could make enough money with that. 

“Yep.” Now, the green shuttle grinned more confidently. “Who knows, I might go to Polyhex, or Gygax or… I’m gonna leave Cybertron completely.”

“Leaving Cybertron?” Blast Off didn’t know what to think of that. Sure, he liked it in space, it was his home. He had been built there, and he was built for it, but leaving this planet totally behind? It always had been a good feeling to have a place he could return to.

“I mean…” the other continued, less enthusiastically, and an underlying sadness was in his tone which Blast Off didn’t perceive. “Now I can do anything I want.” A shrug, and a small smile. “And so can you.”

Blast Off raised an optical ridge, not knowing what to answer or what the last bit meant at all.

“Anyway, you made your decision,” Lunar Pulse said, and then something happened what Blast Off hadn’t seen coming.

The other’s free arm grabbed his shoulder, pulled him closer and into an embrace. Their chest plating touched, and Blast Off tensed, his hands somewhere in the air next to the other’s waist, but not touching it. His vents stopped for a fraction of an astrosecond, and if he hadn’t been frozen and stunned like this, he would have pushed the other away.

He couldn’t cope well with sudden proximity, even if it was one of his batch mates.

The embrace only lasted a few astroseconds, but for Blast Off it felt significantly longer before the other decided to break away with a grin on his faceplates.

“You never change, eh?”

Blast Off frowned once more, and didn’t reply.

“Well then. Goodbye.”

A small nod was everything Blast Off managed, before the other turned and he closed the door without a word.

He really had to recharge now. He needed the rest; his new mission would start in a few cycles.


End file.
